


Golden

by looselips



Series: peterick one shots [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know what to tag this, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Pre-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy), Sad with a Happy Ending, just. it's sad.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 06:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13875570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/looselips/pseuds/looselips
Summary: It was honestly a little bit of a shame, Pete thought, that this’d be the last cityscape he ever saw; mainly cause it wasn’t home.





	Golden

**Author's Note:**

> just. a short and crappily written something that popped into my head while i was listening to some of the sadder songs off ioh. this basically "angst without plot," in a way.
> 
> _big_ suicide trigger warning.

They say that sometimes a change of scenery can help clear your head, that an escape or a “home away from home” can give new purpose and feeling to an already cold, dead corpse; that if you get out of your comfort zone, you can find yourself. Personally, Pete thought _—knew,_ that was bullshit.

Maybe he was too focused on seeing the forest for the trees instead of the intricate leaves that made them up, but “changing” didn’t help. Molding into something he wasn’t only forced more confusion and hurt into an already pained soul, it didn’t help him shake that feeling of being nothing more than a droid going through the daily motions with a painted on smile, that he wiped off when he was alone. He had to say, being a robot wasn’t nearly as fun as his childhood self thought it’d be. Perhaps that’s why he was where he was, with his minimal amount of valuables on the hotel bed still and a bottle of cheaper than cheap liquor on the shelf-like ledge next to him, half empty.

It was honestly a little bit of a shame, Pete thought, that this’d be the last cityscape he ever saw; mainly cause it wasn’t home. It was beautiful regardless, the golden and blue hues of the building's lights were like music to his city boy soul, but it wasn’t _his_. It was a foreign touch and a foreign place, one of his many “one night homes” — it’d have to do though, he didn’t wanna wait long enough to get back to familiar sights and streets. He couldn’t.

Maybe it was the pills, maybe it was his loss of blood from earlier, or maybe it was just the situation as a whole, but by some simultaneous luck and misfortune of the Gods, Pete hadn’t heard the door to the roof open up behind him; hadn’t even stopped to notice or think about the fact that maybe someone knew where he was, that someone cared enough to notice his absence. He did, however, definitely hear the voice calling his name. How could he not? It was a voice he’d know in any crowd, a voice that made his heart sink and his face lose its colour — the voice of a lover.

It spoke with a hitch, with a pleading tone and a nervous pause, like something out of a poet’s scrapbook.  
“Pete, please.. Please don’t.”  
Every part of Pete’s body tensed up at once, from his toes to his top; he wasn’t sure if he should even say anything in response, maybe his anxious silence spoke for itself.  
“I.. I know nothing I say is gonna help, it never really does, but please,” The voice said, softer in tone than before. The words were accompanied by cautious footsteps that Pete didn’t do anything to stop. They were ironically soft thuds on the concrete ceiling that most people in Pete’s situation wouldn’t’ve even noticed, but to him they were crisper than anything he’d ever heard, clearer than any note he’d ever played, and louder than any kid at their shows. 

He’d known it was coming but Pete still jolted a small bit at the sudden feeling of arms around his midsection, pulling him in close. Pete fell limp as they dragged him off the edge, sinking into the squishy body they belonged to; without warning, everything went blurry. For a few moments his head was spinning like a penny dropped on the subway car floor, but when he did finally find the resolve open his eyes he discovered his face was shoved in an all too familiar chest and his tears were staining the shirt it was clothed by, like they had so many times before. The same voice from earlier was whispering hitched _I love you_ ’s from its place above him, and those same arms that grabbed him were wrapped tightly around his shaking frame; they were trying to calm him down but they were shaking too, almost worse than he was. _Patrick._

Pete was sputtering quiet _I’m sorry_ ’s faster than he could process the words themselves, everything had hit him all at once and he found himself trying to find a way to get closer to Patrick despite literally being in the man’s lap; he needed him. Pete felt lips press a kiss to the top of his head and soft arms squeezing him a little tighter,  
“Just breathe, baby. I’ve.. I’ve got you, okay? You’re okay.” Patrick’s words were comforting but he sounded terrified, like he was afraid Pete would break apart in his grasp. Pete tried to start apologising again but Patrick just hushed him, reaching a hand up and stroking his boyfriend’s hair gently.

Pete shut up after that, and the pair just stayed in that position until Pete’s breathing and heart rate slowed, until his sobbing was nothing more than hiccups and both of them had stopped shaking. Pete wasn’t entirely sure how long they’d been there when he turned his head and laid it flat against Patrick’s chest, he wasn’t even sure where “there” was, he couldn’t remember anything after Patrick had grabbed him. They could be on the goddamn bus for all he knew.

After some time, Patrick spoke up, his voice barely more than a whisper,  
“Pete?” He said softly,  
_“Yeah?”_ Pete questioned, he was hoarse from crying.  
“I love you,” Patrick replied. Despite the situation, a sad smile found its way to Pete’s lips; he shut his eyes, almost snuggling himself into Patrick’s chest,  
_“Love you too.”_

**Author's Note:**

> i know the title choice is weird bc pete didn't write golden but i couldn't think of a song that fit this better than golden does. live w it. also sorry for how shit this probably is but i didnt rly have time to edit it the way i wanted to so. yeah.


End file.
